


The Note

by 17stepstobakerstreet



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, M/M, Not Canon Compliant, Post-Reichenbach, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-22
Updated: 2019-07-22
Packaged: 2020-07-11 11:00:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19926994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/17stepstobakerstreet/pseuds/17stepstobakerstreet
Summary: I love you. I love you so much. But I don’t think you love me, and that’s okay. I can hear you moving around the flat, John Watson. My heart is beating erratically. I don’t want to die, and I’m scared. I have to. I have to do this for the man that I love. You can’t live to your full potential while I’m still alive. I should have actually died all those years ago. I’m so sorry.-Sincerely, William Sherlock Scott Holmes, the man who loves you





	The Note

_Dear John Hamish Watson,_

_I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry. If you’re reading this, you know why._

_I just want you to know that I really didn’t want to do this. I didn’t want to leave you, not like this, not again. But as you know, I’m a selfish man, and this will be my last selfish act. You’re probably wondering why I ended my life, why I decided it was a good idea._

_It’s not important. It really isn’t. Not just yet, anyway. First, I have to tell you what I did._

_I did something I thought I could never do, something Mycroft told me wouldn’t be possible, something I assured you on multiple occasions I wasn’t capable of doing._

_I fell in love, and I fell hard. Hard and fast. It’s something I couldn’t have stopped if I tried._

_You know him well, better than most, but not like I know him. You think he’s not a good man, or you think he could be better, at least. If you saw him from my perspective, you wouldn’t dislike him at all, I think. He’s wonderful. His formerly blond hair now turned grey, is soft to the touch, not that I’ve had many chances to touch it at all. His eyes are a deep green, like a beautiful forest, and I find myself getting lost in them from time to time, although I never let myself linger for long._

_And his smile, oh God, and his laugh. If I could just see that smile, or hear that laugh for the rest of my life, I would be in total bliss. The few times I can get him to laugh that full, shoulder shaking laughter, my heart soars and I can barely speak. He’s breathtaking, you know, when he does that. He’s breathtaking when he does everything. When his face crinkles up in silent laughter when we’re watching bad telly together. When he makes tea in the kitchen. When we solve crimes together._

_Sometimes he’ll brush up against me and bloody hell, I swear I could cry. His warm, strong body is as perfect as it could be after going through a war. Did I mention that? My beautiful, strong love went through a war, and he’s still absolutely perfect. His strong warm hands, his beautiful face, his thin but pretty lips. And his voice is amazing, I could listen to it for hours and hours on end. It doesn’t matter if we’re chatting or if he’s screaming at me, it’s like music to my ears._

_When I met him, I knew. I knew I would fall for him the moment he offered up his phone to me in the lab. I tried to tell myself to stay away from him, that I would just end up hurting myself with getting to know him. But I didn’t listen. It was the best decision of my life. We moved together and I fell in love with him time after time. I don’t regret it one bit. I don’t regret you one bit, John Watson. I love you, I always will. If you could only see yourself a fraction of how I see you, you would love yourself too._

_That is why I must do this. This is my reason. My love for you is selfish. I want you to be mine, and I want to keep you locked away where no one else can touch you. But I know you wouldn’t want that. You want to date women, to hang out with friends without fear of me pulling you away for a case. I know that I can’t give you the love that you want. That’s why I need to do this. It’s so very selfish, I know, to take my life, but I have to._

_If I simply move away, you will know I’m still out there somewhere. You will still be forced to care for my well being, to worry about me. But if I die, you won’t have to. You’ll grieve for a while, and my heart hurts at the thought of making you go through this a second time, but in time you will heal, and then you can get on with your normal life. I’m so sorry for being selfish, I’m sorry that you will have to find my body, but you will be okay. You’re John Hamish Watson, and you will go on just fine without me._

_I love you. I love you so much. But I don’t think you love me, and that’s okay. I can hear you moving around the flat, John Watson. My heart is beating erratically. I don’t want to die, and I’m scared. I have to. I have to do this for the man that I love. You can’t live to your full potential while I’m still alive. I should have actually died all those years ago. I’m so sorry._

_-Sincerely, William Sherlock Scott Holmes, the man who loves you_

Sherlock set his pen down on the table with a shaking hand. He folded the note carefully and clutched it in his hand tightly before gingerly picking up the gun lying beside him on his bed. Biting his lip, he tried to hold back the whimper making its way up his throat. He squeezed his tear-rimmed eyes shut and tried to calm himself with deep breathing before tightening his grip on the gun.

“I’m so sorry John, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Sherlock mumbled quietly to himself, tears starting to stream steadily down his cheeks. Rocking back and forth on his bed, apology after apology babbled out of his mouth without control. His mind was a mess of confusion, sadness, and fear. He could barely hear himself think over all the noise. There was a small knock on the door, but he didn’t hear it.

“Sherlock?” A voice, John’s voice, questioned. “Are you alright in there?” Sherlock’s eyes shot open, and his heart clenched in his chest. _No. This wasn’t supposed to happen._

“Go away John, everything is fine,” Sherlock squeezed out. His voice shook. He clenched his fist around the handle of the gun and cringed at how weak he sounded.

“Sherlock, you don’t sound okay. You sound like the opposite of okay. I’m coming in, right now, and you can’t stop me,” John said through the door. Sherlock mentally cursed at himself as more tears burned tracks down his face. _Damn you, Sherlock Holmes, you’re emotions got the better of you and now Watson will know. He’ll know everything. Great bloody job._ The door opened a crack. John’s eyes went straight to Sherlock’s tear-streaked face, then to the gun in his hand.

“Fuck, Sherlock!” John yelled, lunging at Sherlock to grab the gun out of his hand. It came free from Sherlock's grip easily, and he threw it to the ground. John’s hands came up to frame Sherlocks red face, thumbs stroking at the tears on his cheeks. Sherlock's shoulders started shaking with sobs as he tightly squeezed The Note in his fist.

“I don’t want to die, John, I don’t want to die, I’m so scared,” Sherlock babbled. Every word that Sherlock said broke John’s heart a little more, and he was afraid that if he didn’t fix this situation soon, it would shatter into a million pieces. _Why didn’t he tell me? John thought. I was there, he could’ve left the room and told me something was wrong._

“Sherlock, you don’t have to die, you don’t have to be scared,” John whispered soothingly. “You have done nothing that you have to die for, trust me, I. . .” He trailed off when he noticed the piece of paper clenched tightly in Sherlock’s fist. “Sherlock, is that- is that a suicide note in your hand?” Sherlock stilled for a few seconds, before nodding as a sob broke out of his throat. “Will you let me see it?”

Sherlock tensed before turning his face away from Watson, holding the paper out for him to grab. John took the paper carefully and folded it open carefully, glancing at Sherlock every so often. He curled himself up on the bed and started mumbling, “I’m so sorry John, I’m sorry I did this to you, this wasn’t supposed to happen,” over and over again. 

Tears welled up in Sherlock’s eyes as he watched Watson read The Note. There was almost no emotion on Watson’s face for the longest time. His brows were creased, and his lips were pressed into a thin line, but the rest of his face was void of all emotion. Until he read one line, that one line, that drove a dagger into his heart. _I don’t regret you one bit, John Watson. I love you, I always will._

John Watson started crying. Rivers of tears streamed down his face as he read the rest of The Note, and he couldn’t stop them. The rest of The Note was blurred, but he couldn’t seem to find the ability to care. _Oh, Sherlock, you absolute bloody idiot, why didn’t you tell me?_ John’s vision came into focus just long enough to read the very bottom line of The Note. _Sincerely, William Sherlock Scott Holmes, the man who loves you._

John dropped The Note on the floor. He ran his hands through his hair shakily before he dropped to the floor, not even registering the pain in his knees. Without even thinking about it, he shuffled quickly over to Sherlock and pulled him softly up into a sitting position. Before Sherlock could say anything else, John buried his hand into the mess of curls on his head and pressed his wet face softly into his chest.

His other hand went to rub comfortingly at Sherlock’s back. Sherlock’s shoulders shook with sobs, and John whispered into his ear to soothe him, almost like what he would do with Rosie when she wouldn’t calm down. “Sherlock, shhh, it’s okay. Stop crying. God Sherlock, you should’ve told me.” John stroked a thumb over the back of Sherlock's neck. Sherlock whimpered softly and slid off his bed, collapsing in a pile in front of John.

“Sherlock, you really should have told me,” John whispered soothingly. “God, I- fuck, Sherlock, I love you too. I have for so long.” John rocked back and forth and gripped at the back of Sherlock’s neck again and again. Tears streamed down his face as panic seized his body. “I almost lost you. God, you almost- you almost- just because I was too much of a bloody idiot to tell you.”

Sherlock shuddered and wrapped his arms tightly around Watson’s back, squeezing himself closer to the man that he loves. John kept rocking back and forth with Sherlock caged in his arms. Pressing soft kisses to the soft skin right under Sherlock’s ear, Watson whispers onto his skin. “It’s alright love, I have you now. I love you so much. I’m not going anywhere.”

Sherlock lifted his face off of John's chest and rested his forehead on his doctor's shoulder. “I didn’t think you could love me. I’m obnoxious and pompous, and I honestly don’t understand how you can stand me. I didn’t want to tell you because I thought dying would be better than telling you about it and absolutely ruining our friendship. You were the only good thing to happen in my life, John Hamish Watson, and I wasn’t about to mess up our relationship with my confession.”

Sherlock pressed kiss after kiss to Johns' neck, and with an exhale, all of the tension seemed to leave his body. “I love you, Sherlock, don’t ever think that I don’t,” Watson softly. “Sure, you’re pompous and don’t know how to be kind to strangers. You’re dangerous and you’ve almost given me a panic attack on multiple occasions, but none of that matters because you’re you, and that’s enough. You are enough and I will never stop loving you.”

Sherlock shuddered against John and squeezed his eyes shut to stop the tears of joy threatening to spill over. _He loves you, Sherlock Holmes. He loves you, and you love him, and you don’t have to die. You never did. Everything is alright._ A small smile made its way onto Sherlock’s face, and before long, he was digging his fingers into John’s back and giggling quietly. John pressed his lips to Sherlock’s neck as a small smile lifted up the corners of his mouth.

“What?” John said, unable to hold back a small chuckle. Sherlock just laughed harder and dug his nose into the crook of John’s neck, tickling John’s chin with his soft black curls. Sherlock bit his lip to calm his laughter.

“It’s just us. Only us John Watson, really! Can you imagine anyone else getting together like this? We’re insane; I’m really not surprised it took something like this to bring us together!” With his nose in Watson’s neck, he inhaled deeply before sighing contentedly. “You smell faintly of tea John, did you have some before you came to sweep me off my feet and save me?” John snorted.

“Sherlock, no one else would be able to be this fun after they almost- they almost, um-,” John’s words got caught in his throat. _After they’ve almost taken their own life,_ his brain finished for him. Sherlock lifted his head to meet John’s gaze, cheeks still slightly red from crying earlier.

“I know John, I- I’m sorry. It’s just, I wasn’t really suicidal. And now my heart is soaring above the clouds because of you, and I can’t help but be happy sitting here on the floor, wrapped tightly in your arms. Thank God you found me when you did John Watson, or I would have never experienced this much joy in my life. I love you.”

As the Baker Street Boys sat on the floor together, whispering words of love to each other, they realized how thankful they were for each other. No one else would matter, nothing else would matter, as long as they had each other. And they were planning on sticking together for a long while. They loved each other, and that’s all that mattered in life.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you guys for reading! This is my first fanfiction posted on here, so please don't be too hard on me! I hope you liked it!


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